This week the Church celebrates the Ascension of Our Lord — one of the most beautiful and luminous moments in all of Sacred Art. Our own Dr. Aaron Castillo, in a recent parish talk, helped me see these images differently. The Ascension is not a departure. It is a commissioning.
I have spent much of this past week reading. I am currently working through Edward Sri's *A Biblical Walk Through the Mass* with our Men's Group, and reading his *No Greater Love* at night. All of this reading, all of these voices, have been converging on one question: what does it mean that God sought to redeem us — and what does it cost?
God sought to redeem humanity, and Jesus was the fulfillment of that plan. Christ suffered for us, and we ultimately are sinners. Sin is inevitable in our lives. I found myself over the past couple of weeks deeply ashamed for being a sinner and realizing my inherent weakness.
As I revisited the story of the Garden of Gethsemane, I took the Gospel into meditation the way St. Ignatius would have us — placing ourselves inside the story. So often I find myself outside it, watching from a distance, telling myself: how could they fall asleep? It's Christ asking me to stay awake. I would not fail Him. I cannot fail Him. To be so lazy — it is an embarrassment.
But then I reflected more carefully. And for one of the first times, I put myself in Peter's shoes. In John's shoes. In James's shoes.
I fell asleep. I could not stay awake. It corresponded with a particular health concern I had this past week. I could not go on. I was unable, frail, exhausted. I failed.
And it left me wondering — if maybe sometimes we all feel this way. Even seminarians, deacons, priests. We fall short of the grace of God. We are not able to hold the line forever. We have to rest. We cannot always go further.
Somewhere along the line this past week, I hit a breaking point. I surrendered to the circumstances around me. As much as I try to pray the Angelus at 6, 12, and 6, my daily Rosary, my Auxilium Christianorum prayers — I sometimes fall short. I miss the mark.
But Christ is there. Christ defends me. He defends us all.
The saints were not perfect. Saint Peter — the namesake of our parish — is a perfect example. A hotheaded man, a man who did not always see things the way Christ would have wanted. He didn't do things perfectly. He was not always wise. But the Father revealed things to him. Christ relied on him. He became Cephas — he became the rock. A flawed human being.
Angels are not created flawed. Those who are fallen chose to turn from God. We humans also have a choice — every day — to follow the example of the saints, to turn toward God or to turn away.
This constant battle — to turn toward God, to stay awake in the Garden — is, I believe, a large part of the human condition. The Church family you will care for will ask you to help them in this daily struggle. But you will not face it alone, and neither will they.
The same Christ who found His disciples asleep in the garden is the one who ascended in glory and promised not to leave them orphaned. He did not abandon them in their weakness. He does not abandon you in yours.
You have Christ, who gave His life for them and for you. You have the example of the saints and the martyrs. You have Sacred Tradition to lean upon, and the elements of the Mass in which we acknowledge our faults — the Confiteor, the moment after the Invitation during the Liturgy of the Eucharist when we say together that we are not worthy — and yet He comes.
Pray for Our Mother's intercession. Pray for your patron saint to guide you. Pray for Christ to bless you.
Praying for you — always — and especially this Thursday at Adoration.
Please pray for one another.
*Robert Trimble, MD*
Vocations Committee — St. Peter Prince of the Apostles